Empty Prayers
by Limnetic
Summary: When a weird hairdresser begins to attack young Jaye Farmer, things take a turn for the worst. She loses her family and all of her friends but has no choice except to run away. She's guided to a mysterious camp where she discovers who she really is.
1. One Hell of a Nightmare

It was basically a normal day in New Jersey. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and butterflies were fluttering about the blooming flowers.

Not.

Thunder rumbled across the sky as the clouds churned, charcoal black. My eyes stayed sky wards, safely protected behind the sheet of glass that separated my house and the outside. Rain splattered against the window, almost lulling me into a sleep with the repetitive noise.

A bang on my door brought me back down to earth. My head whipped around to face the person just outside of my bedroom.

A creature stood there, tall and proud. I found myself straining to lift my gaze above his nose but I soon managed it. Not two but _one _eye sat in the middle of his forehead, his narrowed glare fixed upon me.

I opened my mouth to scream but, for some reason, I couldn't. What came out of my mouth instead was a strangled gargle. A smirk spread its way across the monster's face. That, paired with the dull light filtering through my window, made his expression even more frightening.

Loud footsteps echoed across the room as he approached. I shrunk towards the curtain, trying with all my might to get as far away as possible from the creature. His enormous, outstretched hand came closer and closer until a yell from behind it reached my ears… "Breakfast is ready!"

I jumped up from my bed, the sheets tangling with my sprawling limbs. Sweat made the cloth stick to my legs and arms, refusing to become separated with my skin. My heart pumped a mile a minute, straining against my rib cage as if it was eager to burst out and run away. That's what I'd do.

"C-Coming!" I called through the open door, reaching my hand over to my bedside table and plucking my glasses from it. After placing them securely on the bridge of my nose, I peered at my digital clock. The flashing digits read '7.15am'.

Stifling a groan, I managed to scramble out of my bed, glaring down at the sheets that were damp with my sweat as if the nightmare was their fault.

Behind my tired exterior, my mind was racing. What on earth could have caused that dream? I wasn't into myths. I didn't believe in them, so what was the point in learning?

Besides, it was kind of hard due to my learning disability.

Having dyslexia was probably one of the hardest things an almost-teenage girl could suffer through. I wasn't able to read magazines and I certainly couldn't understand novels, never mind half of the stuff we were taught at school.

To top all of this off, I had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. For all those who don't understand, I wasn't able to stay focused on one thing, which made it doubly as hard to get good grades in school. As if it wasn't enough that I couldn't read, I wasn't able to concentrate on anything for more than a minute without being jumpy. It was a girl with the ambition to be a doctor's hell.

In case you didn't realise already, I wanted to be involved in medicine but, with my conditions, I couldn't. Nobody would expect me to stand patiently in a hospital while I bandaged up a person's broken leg. Even _I _didn't expect that of myself, and I was the one who wanted to go to medical school.

My mother welcomed me with a smile as I stumbled through the kitchen door, rubbing my eyes behind the lenses of my glasses. "Morning," she greeted, turning back to the sink where she was washing the dishes.

"M-m-m-morning," I managed to say, my mouth widening in a yawn. She chuckled humourlessly, sweeping over towards me to press a kiss on my head. I squinted a little, grumbling about how I was too old for her kisses and cuddles.

"I'm twelve now, Mom," I told her, digging into the cereal she'd left for me on the table. "I can't have you kissing me in public anymore. That'd be like you're still dropping me off at school after you'd packed my lunch."

She sighed a little, wiping some invisible crumbs off the counter. "Darling, you realise that we're currently not out in public, I still do drop you off at school _and _I still pack your lunch." With a muttered 'whatever' and a rolled eye, I let the spoon clatter into the empty bowl.

"Well, that's all going to change. I'm going to be more mature and independent from now on."

"Oh, really?" She raised a sceptical eyebrow at me. "You say that after all of your birthdays."

I shrugged with an air of nonchalance, waving my hand in a 'pish posh' manner. "Time for change has come, oh lovely mother of mine. This time I _will _keep my promise." She scoffed at me but I planted a kiss on her cheek anyway.

"I'm just going to get ready!" I called over my shoulder. She turned her head my way and winked at me.

"Are you going to do that yourself or shall I dress you instead?" she teased. I rolled my eyes t her, laughing under my breath. She was a cool Mom.

*

"Did you get that history essay done?" asked my friend, Melissa. I shook my head, furrowing my eyebrows.

"We had a history essay?" I repeated, my voice slightly strained.

"Yup," she said, taking a bite of her apple. I sighed to myself, turning my attention away from her too-happy face. Instead, I stared right ahead of me.

For a second, I thought I spotted the monster peering at me through the crowds of students that attended my middle school. My mouth made a small 'o' in horror before I blinked and he disappeared.

"H-Hey, Mel?"

"Mm?" she answered, still munching on her fruit.

"What do you call those… things that have on eye in the centre of their forehead and look really… weird?"

"Um…" Her forehead creased in thought. "Aren't they called Cyclopes or something?"

I nodded, feeling a long string of breath pour out of my mouth with relief. "Yeah, that's it."

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head and staring at me. I shrugged in response.

"Just wondering."

Mel gave me a weird look before shaking her head and looking away. She'd learned by now not to question me.

The bell rang from above and I jumped, clutching the clothes just where my heart was. My breathing, which had sped up from the sudden noise, gradually began to slow down. Melissa stared at me, her eyes wide with horror. They probably mirrored mine.

"We're late," we chorused before speeding off in a sprint down the hall. It was a challenge, to say the least. It was still packed full of students who shot glares at us as we shoved past. More than once, my foot was trod on and _not_ by accident.

"Sorry, Mrs. Smith," I panted as we came to our English class. Her form radiated disapproval.

"You're late." I gulped, feeling beads of sweat form on my forehead.

"Well, we were on the other side of the school when the bell rang and we—" Melissa began but Mrs. Smith held up a hand, quieting her down instantly.

"Sit down," she said in a deadly calm tone. We both nodded and sat down, lowering our gazes to the ground like scolded children. I heard the cloth of her skirt swish against her legs as she retreated back to the board.

"Now, class," Mrs. Smith began, glancing once or twice over her shoulder as she wrote on the blackboard. "Today we will be starting poetry."

I stifled a groan. Many people around me grinned, sitting up straighter in their seats. I glowered at them.

To clear things up, my class was the smart class. How I got stuck in here, I had no idea, but it must have had something to do with the fact that Melissa was the daughter of the vice principal.

That didn't stop my lack of talent in English (or any subject, for that matter). For one, it bored me to tears, but I barely understood a word when it was on the paper. I was at a huge disadvantage even when studying a novel. To make things worse, I seemed to lack any sort of poetry skill whatsoever. Anything that rhymed seemed to want to avoid my brain and all the things I wrote was a bunch of gobbledegook.

"But first I would like to hand out your last vocabulary test." This time, I groaned out loud. Her piercing eyes zeroed in on me and I shrunk back in my seat. "Is there something wrong, Miss Farmer?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, ma'am." She stared at me for a few seconds longer before picking up the pile of paper sitting on her desk.

"I was extremely pleased with most of your results," she told us, "but some of them--" she looked pointedly at me "--disappointed me. However, we shall see, and those who let me down will… well, they'll know." An evil smirk spread across her face as she tossed the papers to their owners. Mine landed in front of me.

"Crap," I muttered under my breath. Right beneath my name, in big, bold, red writing, a 'D-' stood out, as clear as day. Melissa turned around from her desk in front of me.

"What'd you get?" she whispered.

"D minus."

She made a face of pity. "It could have been worse; you could have gotten an F." I nodded glumly though her attempts to cheer me up didn't work.

"Those who got less than a C will be staying in after school today to redo the test," Mrs. Smith announced. Everybody stared around with knitted eyebrows, trying to spot somebody with less than a C. No doubt they found that impossible.

I sank lower in my seat.

"Basically, that means there will only be _one _person," she continued, crossing her arms and staring right at me. If I'd sunk any lower, I'd be half way to hell. The whole class 'subtly' turned around to peer at me as well.

I prayed that my day would get somewhat better.

Something told me that was _not_ going to happen.

* * *

**A/N: CC is welcomed, as are normal comments. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	2. Just a Little Homework

I slammed the door with a large bang, yelling 'UGH' for everybody to hear. The windows shook in their frames. "I'm HOME!" I called, glowering at the kitchen door as I made my way towards it. As I went, I let my school bag drop to the floor in the hall.

"Hey, honey, how was school?" she asked, completely unfazed as to why I was home late. She was used to my after-school detentions.

"Horrible. I swear, Mrs. Smith has it in for me," I told her, hopping up onto the counter and watching as my mother cut the leeks with expert precision. I made a face, leaning back on my hands. "What are we having tonight?"

"Leek and potato soup," she answered simply, plopping the vegetables into the pot and stirring them around.

"Yum," I muttered sarcastically under my breath, staring at the floor as I swung my legs.

"Why were you kept after school this time?" she asked, continuing to cut up some chives.

"I got a D minus on my vocab test." My tone was glum. She looked up, concern clear in her eyes.

"Well, at least it wasn't an F!" Her attempts to cheer me up didn't help.

"Yeah, that's what Mel said."

"Well, Melissa's very wise."

"Huh. Unlike me..." I intended for her not to hear that part but she obviously did. She twisted around, raising her eyebrows sternly.

"Don't say that, sweetie! You're very smart." As she talked, she made her way towards me. When she reached me, she cupped my chin with her hands and tilted my head up, staring straight into my eyes with a hard gaze. "You're also extremely talented. Heck, without you, my garden wouldn't be as gorgeous as it is now." I looked out the window, a smile lighting up my face. She was right. The flowers and trees were bursting with colour, full to the brim with juicy fruits that were aching to be picked.

"Yeah, well, that's about the only thing I can do well, and you know it." I sighed. Mom shook her head firmly, wrapping her arms around me. I buried my head in her shoulder.

"You're my special little girl. Don't forget that," she muttered into my ear before pulling away, studying me at arms length. She looked like she wanted to say something more but stopped herself, kissing my hair. I smiled slightly, feeling a little cheered by her hug.

It was strange. I felt much closer to her than I ever did with my birth father, who died a few years ago. Rebecca Brooke, as my 'mom' used to be called, was only twenty five when she met Dad. He was about 38 and was quite a successful accountant, bringing in the 'big bucks' to take care of me. He was barely ever home, though, so I was mostly raised by babysitters that sat and watched soap operas or other mindless programmes. Mom had been one of his customers, trying to figure out how much debt she would have to pay for her little business, 'Brooke's Bouquet's'.

Dad took to her instantly. He'd always been one to fall in love with women with a 'green thumb'. They were married within two years. I was only three at the time, so I don't remember when she came and the Nannies left. Her coming into the family was good for me, though. Despite my disabilities, she loved and cared for me like I was her own, regardless of the fact that I came from another. She raised me well, making sure that I turned out okay. Mom always told me that, even though I was 'special', I could be better than anybody. It was her motto.

I never have and never will remember my birth mother. She left just after I was born, abandoning my father to look after a three week old baby by himself. Honestly, I don't think he would have done such a great job had Rebecca not stepped in a few years later. If it had stayed just me and him, I would have been at an orphanage.

My father died due to brain cancer. It was sudden; the disease hadn't been determined early enough. He died a few months after he was told, leaving barely enough time to close down his successful business. Unfortunately, even though he was an accountant, he left some debts behind, most of which had to be taken from the small fortune he left Mom and I. That left us with little, which, in turn, caused Mom to have to shut down her own shop.

Now? Mom works in a hotel as a receptionist. She doesn't mind her job, but she also wouldn't mind having enough money to open her flower shop again. That was practically impossible. We barely have enough money to keep us going as it is. The only good thing about her job is that she's home when I am, which is usually around half past four due to all the detentions I get.

"I'm going to try and do my homework," I told her as I hopped off the counter. She smiled reassuringly at me.

"Just yell if you need my help." I laughed humourlessly at that.

"Keep your ears peeled. That might be sooner than you think." Waving a cheerful goodbye, I took off out the door, picking my bag up on the way. I soon reached my room and shut the door.

We both knew that I couldn't keep up with the workload that my class got. Five mountains of homework a night was too much for any adolescent, especially one with learning disabilities. Sometimes, I wondered why I was still in my class. Why didn't I just give up and let Mrs. Smith have the pleasure of 'winning'?

I often asked that of myself. Why don't you just leave it? Leave school? Things would be better that way. Besides, Mom would be a much more patient teacher than the ones in the school. I couldn't do that to her, though. That would be selfish. How could I, when her job was the only way we had an income?

I think that the only reason I stayed was to make Mom proud. I did try. But, sometimes, trying isn't good enough for your peers. No matter how hard you work for something, they demolish your dreams with a bulldozer, wrecking all your hopes as they go. Mom was the only string that held me onto my school work. Without her, I'd be falling with no direction, unable to see what to do next.

With a small sigh, I ripped open my school bag and rifled through the endless amounts of files. I could barely read the various labels stuck on them. Finally, I picked out one at random, flipping it open and staring blankly at the words that went on endlessly in front of me. Gritting my teeth and pulling a pen from my pencil case, I began working feverishly, writing numbers down that I was sure weren't right. Regardless, I continued, working through the mound of homework until, after a straight two hours, I was finished. Barely, yes, but finished. I didn't even bother looking over my work; I knew they were F-worthy and the teachers wouldn't disappoint by marking below my expectations.

"Mom!" I yelled. After a few moments, I could hear her padded footsteps hurry across the floor as she came up the stairs. The door creaked open and her head peeked through the crack.

"Yes, hon?"

"Will you check over this for me?" I asked her, holding up a leaf of paper hopefully.

"Sure, Jaye, sure," she said softly, coming over and taking the sheets from me. She sat down, wrapping her arm around my waist as she read through it. I watched her as her eyes scanned the paper, barely listening when she pointed out some of the mistakes. I just smiled and nodded, pretending to take everything in.

"Everything seems okay now, honey," she told me, handing the pile back to me. I set it on the desk nearby.

"I think I might rest a little, now. I'm a little worn out by all that thinking," I joked, rolling my eyes, teasing myself about my own stupidity. She chuckled, kissing my head.

"Alright, pet, I'll see you soon." With that, I gave her a small hug and waved her goodbye.

If I'd known that that would be the last night I ever spent with my mom, I would have never let her go.

**A/N: I know I haven't updated in ages and I know that this is a disappointing chapter (aka a filler), but I'll try to make it up to you all. The next few chapters should be pretty exciting.**

**Don't forget to press the little button below and comment! What kind of comment? I honestly don't care as long as I get feedback. Flames are welcome but CC is loved.**


	3. She Kicked The Bucket

"Come on, sweetie, we're going to be late!" called my mother, her hand draped over the banister at the bottom of the stairs. I could hear her fingers rap loudly off the wood.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I replied, grabbing my coat and flying down the stairs, my wet hair dripping down my back. We were going to the hairdressers to get my hair trimmed. _Nothing else_, Mom made clear. _No bangs, no bobs, no nothing_. I agreed immediately, nodding my head as many times as it took to make her happy. "Are we going or not?" I teased, pulling the door open and running to the passenger's side of the car. She chuckled drily, going around her own side and unlocking the doors. I slid in and she followed suit.

"Don't forget--"

"No fancy hairstyles. Yeah, Mom, I got it." I rolled my eyes at her, smirking, before staring out the window. She started the car, pulling out of the driveway and flooring it. While we made our way to the hair salon, I fumbled through the rickety compartments in the dashboard, trying to find anything of interest to keep my occupied on our drive. My leg was jumpy and my head wouldn't stop twitching; it was probably due to the lack of things to do.

"Are we there yet?" I whined, flumping back unsuccessfully and crossing my arms, pouting. She smiled over at me, putting the shift into gear.

"A few more minutes." I sighed, directing my attention out of the window. My eyes went sky high, as did my eyebrows. I leaned to the side a little, tilting my head up to see better.

Dark clouds swirled around each other, casting a shadow on the car. A wind buffeted the doors as if trying to reach in and drag my mom and me out. Tree branches bent low to the ground. Flowers wilted under the strength of the upcoming storm. A shiver passed down my spine like a warning. Regardless, I turned my head and pretended I didn't notice.

We soon arrived in the parking lot, Mom easing us into a spot just outside the salon. I pushed open the door, practically fighting the wind. As soon as I let go, the door slammed shut, the loud bang echoing on the empty buildings. Well, all except one, that is. Only one window lit up, sending a warming glow out onto the side-walk. I grinned, my teeth chattering just a little from the biting cold. Mom ushered me to her side, wrapping her arm around me to keep me warm as we hurried towards the door.

The tinkling bell sounded above our heads. It was a nice sound. A smiling receptionist waved us over to her desk, calling over to us, "Hello! What can I do for you today?"

"I booked an appointment for a Jaye Farmer?" my mother told her, raising her voice to make it sound like a question. The woman nodded, the smile never once leaving her face as she peered down at her notebook. She looked up at Mom, raising her hand to motion over to the plush sofa.

"If you'd take a seat over there, Mr. Malo will get to you shortly." Mom nodded, grinning at the woman, who looked no more than twenty, before directing me over to the couch. I plopped down on it, immediately crossing my legs and bobbing my foot. I reached across, pulling a magazine from the pile of newspapers and novels on the table. Flipping it open with licked finger, I adjusted my glasses and pretended to be engrossed in the juicy gossip. Of course, I could barely read a word of any of it, but the woman staring at me didn't need to know that.

For added effect, I made a little 'ooh' of interest, staring at the only pages I understood: the fashion pages. With these, all you needed to do was look at the pictures. They were the best part.

After about five minutes of absolute boredom while pretending to flick through the pages with the utmost interest, a gruff call from a door with a curtain of little stringy beads in front of it woke me from my daydream. "Stacy, would you please get Miss Farmer settled into a seat and an apron around her?" 'Stacy' nodded, hurrying over to a rack of coat-hangers and picking a cloth from it. She waved me over to a chair, which I eagerly followed her to, happy to be out of that sofa. Once I was sat down, she draped the fabric around my neck, fastening it at the back.

"There you go, sweetie," she cooed, smoothing my wet hair from the sides. She pulled it out from my head, almost yanking my neck off my shoulders. Tilting her head, she let out a long 'hmmmm', messing around with the dark strands. A loud clearing of the throat made her jump out of her skin, scurrying away from the chair. The largest man I've ever seen stepped forward, making himself visible in the mirror.

He was extremely tall, and his stomach balanced that out, too. I wouldn't say he was fat, exactly, more like quite plump. On him, though, it didn't look to bad. Obviously, he had flawless hair. His side bangs flopped over his forehead, completely obscuring his eyes. I wasn't sure how he could see, though, because his hair was so thick and slick, it was like a tamed rainforest.

"So, how are you today?" he asked politely, doing the same thing Stacy did. He picked a comb from his belt, pulling it through my hair. "Oh, do you want a middle parting or a side?" I shrugged, motioning for him to do whatever. He parted from the middle.

"Um, I'm good. Kinda bored." Mr. Malo chuckled, smoothing his hands down my hair to the very tips.

"You have very... thick, unruly hair, you know that?" I nodded.

"I've been told," I informed him. He laughed again.

"It might be a little hard to work with but I'm sure I'll manage." Mr. Malo pulled out his scissors, pulling his fingers down my hair and showing me the ends. "There are some split ends here. Do you want them all cut off?" I nodded. He continued cutting the tips off my hair, making sure it was all even. Everything was fine for a little while. We made small talk (well, I did) and the only time there was a silence was when he was out of the room.

He came back, looking slightly different. I couldn't tell what it was, but something in my gut nagged at me to take notice.

"We're almost done here, Jaye, all I need to do is just layer your hair!" he told me cheerfully, grabbing his layering scissors. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Um, sorry, Sir, but all I wanted was my hair trimmed..." I glanced at my mom out of the corner of my eye. She shook her head sternly.

"You're getting your hair layered," he told me, making it clear there was no arguing about the matter. I shrugged towards Mom when she frowned at me, believing that it was my fault. She sighed, disappointed with me, before turning back to her magazine.

_It wasn't me!_ I tried to tell her with a glare but she wouldn't look around. Defeated, I slumped back in my chair.

"Ow!" I yelled, clutching the back of my neck. When I pulled my hand back, a little blood was smeared along my hand. I looked questioningly at Mr. Malo's reflection. "What did you do that for?!"

A sadistic grin traced his lips. "I didn't mean to. I accidentally nicked your neck with the top of my scissors. It's nothing to cry over, Jaye." His voice near the end was whiny, clearly mocking mine. My features contorted into a 'what the...?' face.

His hands gripped the base of my hair, yanking it back. My wide eyes peered up into his face, which was distorted with anger. "You listen here, girl, do as I say or your mother dies, capice?" I nodded quickly, gulping. He pulled my chair around to look at my mom, keeping a tight hold on my hair.

Mom was sitting there, struggling against the tight hold of Stacy. She smirked at me, waving. I glared at her before staring at my mother. She looked back, widening her eyes in a way I guess I was meant to understand. I shook my head, trying to tell her that she wasn't making any sense, but only succeeded in yelping with pain as he almost pulled my hair out.

"I want you to tell Chiron," he spat the name out, "that his precious little camp will be destroyed. There are people that still have... hard feelings about the war." He shot a glance at Stacy, guffawing. She joined in with high pitched giggles.

"W-What are you t-talking about? Who's C-Chiron?" I asked, stuttering, my heart pounding against my chest.

"Don't act dumb, Miss Farmer. You know exactly what I'm talking about," he hissed in my ear, keeping me directed towards Mom. He gave Stacy a sharp nod. With a quick movement of her hand, she flicked out a penknife, putting the blade to her neck. I let out a strangled cry.

"Don't touch her!" I shouted, tears welling in my eyes. He turned the chair back to him, sneering down at me.

"Don't touch her, 'eh? Huh. What are you going to do to stop me?" He had me there. I couldn't very well fight against a seven foot man. He'd crush me. "Thought so," he said after a few moments of silence. "Well, if you're not going to tell the truth, we won't have much use for your mother. Kill her." The last part was directed at his minion. He twisted the chair around again, making sure that I was going to see my mother's death.

"Please, don't... I'm begging you..." I muttered, too quiet for him to take notice. Tears poured down my cheeks as Stacy pressed the knife into Mom's throat, beads of blood appearing just where she was cut. "STOP!" This time, I bellowed. He laughed.

"Are you going to be honest now?" I could sense a raised eyebrow in his tone.

"No," I said, bravely trying to keep my voice steady, "but I sure am going to hurt _you_." With that, I stood up, punching Mr. Malo in the face.

And boy, did it hurt.

My knuckles groaned with agony. I let out a shriek of pain, trying to get away from him. He was too quick, and, in a few strides, he was in front of me, blocking my mother off. "M-Move out of the way," I told him, trying to stand up straight while still attempting to massage the ache from my knuckles. I was sure that one or more were broken.

"Are you going to make me?" A sly grin spread across his face. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, really, but it was like my mind just took over. I feinted to the left, making sure not to move my sore hand too much, and then dodged around his other side. He turned around, stumbling like a huge troll. Now that I looked a little closely, that's what he looked like. His teeth were crooked, overlapping each other.

_Now is not the time to notice these things_, I told myself, focusing on grabbing Mom and getting the hell out of there. As I dived towards them, Stacy held the knife up, blocking my way, just like Mr. Malo had. I groaned, not feeling like injuring myself again, and tried the same move as I'd done before. She'd learned from his mistakes. When I leaned to the right, she went to the left, where I was going to go, and obstructed me again.

Mom, who was now free from Stacy's hold, was about to jump on her when Stacy turned around, put her in a headlock and pushed the knife to her throat. "Don't think I won't kill her," she spat, letting out a little 'ha'. I didn't move. "I thought so." That was when I felt hands lock around my wrists, keeping me put with a tight grip.

"Just run, Jaye!" Mom managed, her eyes rolling down to the knife, her breathing ragged. I shook my head firmly, tears still running down my face. The only way I was going to leave her was over my dead body, and that isn't even possible. Stacy pressed the knife further into her throat, causing the blood to spill down her neck. She gargled in agony. The wound was getting deeper every time she made a noise.

"Do as we say or Mommy here gets it," Stacy mocked childishly, sticking her tongue out at me. Mom shook her head. I followed suit.

"No!" With that, she shut her eyes tight, waiting for it.

"Well, you asked for it..." Before I had a chance to say 'no', his minion had sliced her neck, causing the body to fall to the floor. I could hear the last few breaths my mother took before she passed away.

**A/N: I don't like this chapter, it's too sad D: I told you I'd make it up to you! Two updates in two days? Woah, I'm on a roll! I hope you enjoyed it and, if you did, please leave something for me? ^^**


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